


That is Not Dead Which Can Eternal Lie (and with strange eons, even death may die)

by thymelord



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Newt Scamander, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Credence Barebone Learning Magic, Crossover, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Newt Scamander, Dragons, Fantastic Beasts x Harry Potter, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Multi, Newt and Hagrid Are The Worst Combination, Oral Sex, Smut, So Many Dangerous Creatures, THERE'S A PLOT Y'ALL!! it's a christmas miracle, Threesome, animagi, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: “The Dark Lord is dead,” proclaimed Harry Potter triumphantly, to a wave of cheers from the crowd.He raised Voldemort's wand high above his head. Smiled. “Long live the Dark Lord.”A handful of people laughed nervously.It was the last sound they ever made.------------Meanwhile, a young man awakes in a London alley, despite his last memory being that of New York.But finding himself on unfamiliar terrain will soon be the least of his problems – especially considering his only ally in this unfamiliar world is a man with a ridiculously amphibian name, and without a plan. At all.“Salamander? You’re named after two amphibians? Isn’t one enough?”“Scamander. He was a Greek river god.” Newt paused. “Although the name literally means ‘awkward man’.”“Fantastic,” said Credence dryly. “I feel safer with you as a mentor already.”------------(basically: hp x fantastic beasts crossover in which Credence must defeat dark!Harry Potter)





	1. PROLOGUE - Long Live The Dark Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Credence in Obscurial form has managed to cling onto life for nearly a century and is returned to corporeal form by Newt Scamander. Newt still looks ~30 because he encountered a venom from a magical beast in Libya that makes it look as though he doesn't age. Basically I just wanted Scamandence and Newt would be 90 or smth at this point so I invented that venom, i have no excuses ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> number of chapters is only approximate but i hate putting a ? lmao 
> 
> also the dark!Newt tag is because newt is darker than in canon but he's not Super Evil like harry is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence in Obscurial form has managed to cling onto life for nearly a century and is returned to corporeal form by Newt Scamander. Newt still looks ~30 because he encountered a venom from a magical beast in Libya that makes it look as though he doesn't age. Basically I just wanted Scamandence and Newt would be 90 or smth at this point so I invented that venom, i have no excuses ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> number of chapters is only approximate but i hate putting a ? lmao 
> 
> also the dark!Newt tag is because newt is darker than in canon but he's not Super Evil like harry is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from H.P. Lovecraft's "The Nameless City" and "The Call of Cthulhu".

The darkness had been lying within him, dormant but waiting, for eighteen long years. And all the while it grew, feeding off the scorn and hatred of the Dursleys, of Malfoy, of innumerable others.

_Never tickle a sleeping dragon._

He didn’t know when it had begun to stir. Perhaps it began when he cast _Sectumsempra_ on Malfoy and a rush of elation passed through him like a thunderbolt instead of the horror he was expecting to feel. Maybe it was upon Dumbledore’s death, when he had thought to himself _well, it was about time._ Maybe it was even further back, when he secretly smiled at people thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin; of being just a little bit disappointed when he was not.

Whatever its provenance, it was here, and it was immutable and immovable.

“The Dark Lord is dead,” proclaimed Harry Potter triumphantly, to a wave of cheers from the crowd.

He bent, picked up Voldemort’s wand. A hush fell. The crowd looked on eagerly, certain he was going to snap it in two as a symbol of victory.

Harry raised the wand high above his head. Smiled. “Long live the Dark Lord.”

A handful of people laughed nervously.

It was the last sound they ever made.


	2. ONE - off to see the wizard(s and witches)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one of the worst things abt writing prologues is that you get shit like "chapter two - ONE" like damn ao3 just let us mark chapters as prologues already???

“I mean, I’d _like_ to say I’ve been planning this for a long time, but in actuality I have no bloody idea what I’m doing.”

“Great,” said Credence, “that’s really reassuring, thanks.”

Credence Repentance Barebone had only been conscious for less than half an hour, and already he was wishing he was back to his non-sentient state.

He’d been pleased when he saw Newt, thinking that at least there was someone familiar with him. But then Newt had explained that it was actually the year 1996, and he’d been in an unconscious Obscurus form for seventy years, despite Credence just feeling like he woke up from a very long, refreshing nap.

Or at least, that’s what he _expected_ such a feeling would be like; Mary Lou had never let him have a good night’s sleep in his life.

“It’s just,” said Newt nervously, still looking thirty-odd years old despite being around ninety or a hundred, “I’d been keeping an eye on you ever since I saw that last vestige of your Obscurus escape. I didn’t know if it was enough for you to live, but I found out that you have been slowly regaining your power over the years, and I followed urban legends to a haunted church in New York and, well, there you were. And it just so happens that there’s a new Dark Lord around, and you’re possibly the most powerful wizard on earth right now, so...”

“Isn’t the Dark Lord the most powerful wizard?” countered Credence. “You just told me that.”

“Well, yes, but that was before I revived you. Now _you_ are. And when we combine our powers, there’s no _way_ this Potter upstart will be able to defeat us. Of course,” Newt added hurriedly, “you aren’t obliged to do anything, it was just, er, a thought.”

“But if I don’t do anything, then this Dark Lord is going to kill thousands of people, right?”

“Erm... probably, yes.”

“So there’s not really a choice there, is there?”

Newt spread his hands apologetically. “I _am_ terribly sorry to have dragged you into all this, but you were mere months away from regaining corporeal form by yourself, and I thought it would be better if I was there to help - ”

“It’s fine,” said Credence quickly to cut off Newt’s increased babbling, “I... I can do it. The Lord knows I must repent for what I’ve done.”

Newt’s gaze softened, and he stepped forward, putting a consoling hand on Credence’s arm. “That wasn’t your fault, Credence.”

“But I feel guilty, and I’ll never be able to shake off the guilt if I don’t... if I don’t _do_ something.” Credence swallowed, blinking back the tears that seemed to have formed out of nowhere. “What’s your surname, anyhow?”

“Scamander.”

“Salamander? You’re named after _two_ amphibians? Isn’t one enough?”

“ _Sca_ mander. He was a Greek river god.” He paused. “Although the name literally means ‘awkward man’.”

“Fantastic,” said Credence dryly. “I feel safer with you as a mentor already.”

~

Newt’s first action once they were back home was to send an owl to Professor McGonagall, who had sent back a letter that dripped with incredulity and informed him that her head would be appearing in his fireplace at nine o’ clock that evening.

Well, alright then.

“Newton Scamander,” said McGonagall’s disapproving face, which seemed all the more alarming when surrounded by green fire. Newt gulped, feeling like a fifth-year Hogwarts student being caught with contraband creatures again. Despite having significantly more wrinkles than when he was at Hogwarts, that stern look had remained exactly the same.

“Hello, Professor,” said Newt meekly.

“I requested an audience with you because this sort of matter cannot be discussed over owl.” _Requested, yeah, sure._ “And also because I thought your magic quill must have been acting up. Because I could have sworn this letter says that you resurrected an Obscurus and plan to use it to defeat Harry Potter.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last two words, a flash of pain going through her expression.

“It’s perfectly safe - ”

“Scamander, the _amount_ of times you’ve said that when it’s turned out to be patently untrue could fill a six-foot long piece of parchment.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. “No, I swear,” Newt insisted. “He’s fine. The Obscurus itself has retreated so only the slightest bit remains in the boy, and – well, I assume you’re aware of Credence Barebone; he was the most powerful wizard of his time, and possibly in ours. He’s our best chance, Professor.” He couldn’t stop saying the honorific even if it wasn’t needed, and McGonagall was not the sort to correct him.

McGonagall held his gaze, thoughtful. Finally, she said, “Alright. We enrol the boy at Hogwarts, in his seventh year, and give him a crash course in everything. If he’s as talented as you say, then it shouldn’t pose a problem.” She hesitated. “Well, perhaps only a little bit of a problem. But I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion admirably, Scamander.”

“Yes, I – wait, what?”

The Stern Look of Immense Disapproval was back. “You didn’t just think you were going to foist the boy off on us and leave, were you?”

“No, not at all - ” _Sort of._

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on him. Consider yourself the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. I dare say you’re qualified enough.” There was a slight twinkle in McGonagall’s eye at that.

“Y-yes... thank you, Professor.”

“I hope you have a good night, Mr. Scamander.”

“Goodbye, Professor,” said Newt miserably as McGonagall’s head disappeared, the emerald flames transforming back to orange.

It only occurred to him much later that she hadn’t commented on his youthful appearance. Perhaps she was used to him by now, and knew the answer would be that it was the result of a ridiculous, creature-related mistake.

Which was true, to be fair.

Credence peeked out from behind his bedroom door. Newt had rented an apartment in London, envisaging that they would be there quite some time, and now it looked as though he was going to have to move out early and waste all those Galleons. Never mind.

“Is she gone?” whispered Credence, and Newt nodded. “What did she say?”

“You’re off to Hogwarts, my lad.”


	3. TWO - in which newt scamander regrets his life decisions, yet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> credence gets Sorted!

Credence was displaying behaviour that was an unsettling mix of endearing and mildly irritating.

Perhaps if Newt had children, he would have been better equipped to deal with a hyperactive Hogwarts student going around Diagon Alley for the first time, but as it was, he felt completely out of his depth. It was true that Credence wasn’t _actually_ a child, but the way he was going on...

“Oh no, absolutely not,” said Newt sternly as Credence caught sight of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. “ _Absolutely not.”_

Credence looked at him with pleading, ink-dark eyes. “Can’t we just have a _little_ look?”

Newt massaged his temple. “Fine, but you’re not buying anything weird.”

Credence immediately went up in Newt’s estimation as he made a beeline for the cages full of squealing Pygmy Puffs, and Newt had to try very hard not to grin like a lunatic as he watched Credence cooing over the tiny balls of living fluff. A shop assistant came up to him, and Credence eagerly pointed out the smallest, squeakiest creature in the shop. “That one.”

“You know,” said Newt as the Pygmy Puff was placed into a golden cage, “Hogwarts only allows cats, owls, or toads. And only one.”

Credence gave him a withering look.

“Hey,” capitulated Newt, throwing his hands up. “I’m not telling you _not_ to get one thousand different pets, I mean come on, do you know me at all? I’m just saying, keep them hidden.” He observed Credence tickling the top of the Pygmy Puff’s head, this time failing to keep a smile from spreading across his face. “So, what are you going to call him?”

Credence looked up at him slyly. “Newton.”

Newt choked. “ _What?”_

“Well, look at him. He’s all cuddly and cute. Like you.”

Before Newt could form a response, Credence was already out of the door.

Newt had always liked to do the hardest task last, in the hope that an asteroid would demolish the earth before he had a chance to do it.

So it was that he and Credence made their ungainly way into Ollivander’s, attempting to juggle a cauldron, a Pygmy Puff, an owl, and innumerable textbooks and miscellany as Ollivander stared at them both with mild astonishment.

“A Scamander, I assume,” said Ollivander, coming out from behind the counter as a panting Newt set a cauldron on the floor and closed the door with a jangle of the bell. “You look exactly like Newton.”

He straightened. “Y-yes, that’s right I’m – Lysander. Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand, and Ollivander shook it with no small degree of suspicion.

“I don’t remember a Lysander Scamander.”

“Ah, yes, I grew up in America. Went to Ilvermorny.” Newt realised that he really hadn’t thought this shit through at all, and hastily pushed Credence forward. “I’m looking for a wand for this young man here, Credence Barebone. First one.”

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. “First wand? You don’t look eleven.”

“Uh... special circumstances. Very special circumstances.”

“Right.” Ollivander bemusedly went behind the counter, picking a couple of boxes off the shelves. “So first off -”

“Acacia,” murmured Newt. “Try an acacia.”

Ollivander turned slowly. “One of the most hardest wands to match with a wizard? A wand that can only be wielded by the most gifted?” He looked slightly put out at being told how to do his own job, but in Newt’s defence, he _did_ know what Credence was capable of more than Ollivander, and Newt wanted to get out of the shop as fast as he could before Credence could accidentally demolish the whole place by channelling his immense power through a wholly unsuitable wand. At least with acacia, if he wasn’t suited to it, the wand would simply refuse to do anything at all rather than explode.

“So be it.” He delicately took a wand out from its box, and placed it in Credence’s lightly trembling hands. “Acacia, twelve inches, unicorn core, very rigid. Give it a bit of a wave.”

Swallowing, Credence made a nervous, jerky motion. A small shower of sparks emanated from its tip, and Ollivander blinked in surprise.

“Was that good?” asked Credence, staring at the wand as though it would bite him.

“Not bad,” replied Ollivander. “Looks like you were right about the acacia - ” His eyes narrowed slightly as they went to Newt, no doubt wondering how he knew Credence would be suited to a wand for gifted wizards if he had never performed magic before. “ – but we’ll try a different core, I think. I don’t stock many acacia wands – very rare that a worthy witch or wizard comes along – but I have a couple.” He shuffled back behind the counter, producing another, slightly shorter wand. “Here. Phoenix.”

 As soon as the wand touched Credence’s palm, it began to glow with a faint golden light, a comfortable warmth travelling up his arm. Entranced, Credence flicked his hand slightly, and a faint ribbon of light spiralled from its tip before dissipating in the air. Behind him, Eric the Pygmy Puff – because thank _God_ he’d been joking about calling it Newton – began to hum.

Ollivander looked astonished. “Young man... are you sure you’ve never performed magic before?”

“Not with a wand,” he said quietly, cradling it in his hands. “Is this it, then? Is this the one?”

“Oh yes, yes, most definitely. You’ll be a powerful one when you’ve had training, I’ve no doubt about that.”

Newt didn’t doubt it. The boy was as powerful as half the students at Hogwarts already.

~

They had a carriage to themselves on the Hogwarts Express, perhaps because everyone had figured out that Newt was a teacher and they didn’t want to have to talk to him for hours, but most likely because Credence was performing magic with a singular, intense devotion that looked mildly alarming to passers-by, especially as the occasional wisp of black would curl around him.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it? Learn seven years worth of magic in only one year?” Credence asked Newt anxiously as the chairs flashed through ten different colours in the space of a few seconds.

“I reckon so,” murmured Newt. “If you don’t do those useless subjects such as Divination or Arithmancy - ”

“Why are they useless?”

with a sheepish smile, “and besides, they don’t involve general spells, like Charms and Defence Against The Dark Arts. If you do those two along with Potions, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures...”

“What other subjects are there?”

“Well, there’s Herbology – actually, you should probably do that too – and there’s a History of Magic, which is taught by a ghost that doesn’t know he’s a ghost, and there’s Apparition – oh God, you’ll be needing to learn that, too - ”

“So, I basically do need to learn everything, except from those ones you mentioned.”

“ _Well –_ possibly. And Muggle Studies. I dare say you know about them already. Although maybe not 1990s Muggles... But anyway, I suppose Professor McGonagall will go over everything you’ll need to know when you get there. Now is the time to be discussing more important things - ”

“Such as defeating the Dark Lord?”

Newt hesitated. “I was actually going to say, learning the Bird-Conjuring Charm. It’s one of the most important spells of them all.”

Credence regarded him, tucking a lock of hair behind his ears. One of the first spells he’d asked Newt to teach him was the Growth Charm, which he instantly used to get rid of his diabolical bowl-cut and replace it with soft waves that brushed the nape of his neck. “Why is that an important spell?”

“Because it conjures birds, of course. What could be more important than birds? I mean, they aren’t _real_ birds, exactly, but they’re still birds...”

Credence opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a loss. Finally he said, “I think we probably _should_ be talking about how to defeat the Dark Lord. I don’t even know anything about him. I can hardly even remember his name. Potter?”

“Harry Potter, yes.” Newt turned his head to watch the Northumbria countryside zoom by. It would only be a couple of hours until they reached Hogwarts. “He defeated the old Dark Lord when he was just a baby. Survived a Death Curse, there was a big to-do over it. And then the old Dark Lord was resurrected, and Potter defeated him again – for good this time – and became the Dark Lord himself.” Newt swallowed. “I think it’s safe to say nobody was expecting _that_ to happen.”

“What does he want?”

“Wizarding dominion over Muggles, I think, the same old thing all Dark Wizards have wanted since the beginning of time. Unlike most of them, however, he doesn’t seem to have a prejudice against Muggle-Borns.”

“I see,” said Credence quietly, absently putting a Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Bean in his mouth. He winced, narrowing his eyes at the packet. “Uh, Newt? I’m pretty sure I just got a sprout-flavoured jelly bean.”

“Oh yeah, they do that,” said Newt vaguely. “They really do mean _every_ flavour _._ Well. I don’t think they have semen flavour. That would probably be breaking a law.”

He choked on his bean.

~

Credence had never experienced the grandiose experience of a European castle before, so he was as wide-eyed as any of the first-years as they were led through the corridors to the Great Hall, accidentally running into tiny children as his attention was caught by a swinging chandelier, or an undulating staircase, or a cheeky wave from a portrait. He’d been reluctant to leave Newt at first, but his anxiety was quickly forgotten when they entered Hogwarts.

He was last to be sorted, and he was certain every single student in the Hall had sneaked at least one curious glance at him, loitering awkwardly at the back of the first-years. Professor McGonagall has entered his and Newt’s carriage near the end of the train ride, to explain Credence’s cover story: he was a transfer from Ilvermorny, was previously in Pukwudgie house, and had come to Hogwarts because he was Newt’s – or rather, Professor Lysander Scamander’s – assistant and protégé.

Credence had asked how they were going to explain his crash courses in magic, and Newt had piped up eagerly with, “You got bitten by a very rare beast that causes you to forget what spells you learnt, although your power is still the same. That will also explain why you learn everything so fast.”

“How do you know I’ll learn everything fast?”

Newt had given him a withering look. “Credence, you’ve mastered at least three O.W.L.-level spells on the train. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Credence had been looking forward to what the Sorting Hat would say to him, about which houses it oscillated between. It had spoken to Newt for two minutes, deliberating between Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin (he mustn’t have had a single drop of Gryffindor in him).

But when the army of children had dissipated and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, it had barely been on his head for fifteen seconds before it said, “Ah, well, there’s only one possibility here. SLYTHERIN!”

Ah yes, the ‘evil house.’ Credence had no idea why he was surprised.

Although, the current Dark Lord was from Gryffindor, so he thought that the Gryffindor table should probably stop glaring at him and take a moment to dwell on their possible evilness. Fucking hypocrites, honestly.

The occupants of the Slytherin table had all stood up as one, cheering for the mystery seventh-year American who had appeared out of nowhere. Credence smiled nervously at them, seating himself next to a boy around the same age as him who seemed to have been washed of all colour, his silvery-blond hair brushing pale cheeks. He glanced up at Credence with slate-grey eyes, almost questioning.

“Um, hello,” said Credence.

“Hey,” drawled the boy, a smile flashing across his face. “Welcome to the best motherfucking house in Hogwarts.” He held out his hand. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Credence Barebone,” he said, shaking it, “although you, uh, knew that already.”

Draco smiled at him. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, in a manner Credence was all-too familiar with; it wasn’t an insincere smile, but the smile of someone so inwardly miserable that they had almost forgotten how to smile at all.

Credence beamed at him, coaxing out a startled but genuine little smile from the other, like a nervous cat edging into the room.

Across the Hall from the dreaded Gryffindor table, Credence suddenly got the feeling that someone was watching him. He turned, as nonchalantly as possible, and caught sight of a bushy-haired seventh-year staring at him through narrowed eyes with mingled hostility and suspicion.

This, he would learn later, Harry Potter’s former (?) best friend. As they went out of the Great Hall at the end of the feast, she brushed against him and murmured “Second Salemers” into his ear before disappearing into the crowd.

Credence couldn’t help but mutter a shocked “Holy fucking _shit_ ” under his breath.

He’d only been at this school for less than two hours and things were already not going to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> newt believes nobody except him and credence knew about the obscurus incident (more on that later) but i mean, if anyone was going to know about it, it was going to be hermione let's be real.


	4. THREE - here, kitty kitty

There was a cat staring at Draco Malfoy.

Before he could stop himself, he was sliding out of bed and crouching down to pet it, cooing nonsense under his breath and all the while aware that if Zabini caught him he’d never be able to live it down, ever.

He should probably be more alarmed, considering nobody in their dormitory owned a black cat, but he figured it must be Credence’s, or something. Or one of the other year’s cats had wandered in, despite the locked door. The cat was like a shadow, pure black fur and glittering onyx eyes. It looked uncertain, neither purring nor pulling away with an affronted air like a normal cat would, but just looking at him uncertainly. That should probably have tipped Draco off, but he was too busy being delighted at the fact that a cat was there. 

And then suddenly, Draco was stroking the back of Credence Barebone’s head.

Credence scrambled back, crimson cheeks visible even in the weak morning light filtering through the drawn curtains. He stumbled, falling onto his own bed, and blinked at Draco nervously.

“Um,” said Credence. “Can all wizards turn into cats?” When Draco just continued to stare at him, frozen, Credence hastily cast a Muffliato Charm to prevent their classmates from waking up, and continued. “I... I didn’t mean to, I just... woke up like this?”

“You woke up like that,” said Draco flatly. “You just woke up and you were a cat.”

“Um... yes?”

Draco’s expression was inscrutable. “And... has this ever happened before?”

“Um... no.”

“That’s... not normal. At all.”

Credence swallowed, and disappeared behind the curtains of his four-poster bed. Frantic rustling came from within, and a few moments later he had emerged in his uniform, his Slytherin tie askew. Under normal circumstances, Draco might have made a comment about his Puritanical modesty, but he had far more important things on his mind right now.

“Where are you _going?”_

“To see New- the new professor. Professor Scamander.”

“Ah, yes.” One side of Draco’s lips curled upwards. “You’re his protégé, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Assistant, really.” Credence grabbed his wand off the bedside table and shoved it into his pocket, making his way towards the door. He’d gone a few steps when he realised that Draco was following him, and he spun round, taking in Draco’s uniform. “W-what are you doing?”

“Evidently, I’m coming with you.”

“But why?”

“It’s technically still curfew. I wouldn’t want you to get caught by Filch and get points knocked off our house.” He smirked, silvery eyes glittering.

“But if we do get caught, then more points will be knocked off, because there’s two of us – ”

“Yes, but we’re not going to _get_ caught, because I’m with you, Barebone.”

True to Draco’s words, possibly because of seven years-worth of late night excursions, they managed to get through the corridors and out into the grounds without experiencing anyone but an uninterested-looking Bloody Baron. Credence was suddenly grateful that Draco was with him, because he still had no idea how to navigate his way from the common room to the Great Hall, let alone getting out into the grounds and towards the gamekeeper’s cottage. Newt had elected to stay with Hagrid rather than in Professor Grubbly-Plank’s old office, as being nearer to the Forbidden Forest meant being nearer to the creatures that dwelt within.

Draco reached the door first, knocking and revealing a bemused Hagrid. “Malfoy?” he said, nonplussed. “What’re _you_ doin’ here?”

“We have an emergency,” replied Draco crisply, gesturing at Credence. “We need to see Professor Scamander. At once.”

“Please, Professor Hagrid,” Credence added, shooting Draco a look of reproach. “It’s very important.”

Hagrid snorted, but his expression softened as he looked at Credence. “It’s just Hagrid, I ent a professor anymore. And who would you be?”

“Credence Barebone, sir.”

“Ah, of course. Scamander’s assistant. Well, come in, come in, I think he’s woken up already. Tending the mooncalves, or somethin’.”

Hagrid let them to Newt’s room, which was unoccupied except for an open suitcase in the middle of the room. Credence immediately made his way towards it, shooting a look at Draco. “Are you coming, then?”

Draco eyed the suitcase dubiously, but followed behind Credence as he jumped down.

Newt was in the entrance room with Pickett chattering on his shoulder, murmuring replies to him as he chopped herbs for some kind of potion. “You’re going to have to back eventually, you know, it’s been over sixty years, surely they miss you... they don’t _pick on you_ – no, I’m not saying you’re a liar, I’m just saying, are you sure it’s not just an excuse to – ” He broke off, ignoring Pickett’s outraged clicks when he heard Credence and Draco behind him.

“What’s wrong, Credence?” he said, dropping the knife and taking in Credence’s frantic, dishevelled appearance.

“Oh, Ly _sander_ , it’s awful,” said Credence, looking thoroughly miserable. “Somebody has cursed me to turn into a cat at random times.”

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I just... well, turned into a cat. It must be a curse, right?”

“Actually, no. Well, probably not,  it’s highly unlikely. The more likely explanation is that you’re an Auto-Animagus.” Newt tilted his head on one side, like one of the birds he took care of. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised, and yet...”

“A what?” said Draco sharply. “An Auto-Animagus? An Animagus whose skill is innate, not taught?”

“Yes.” Newt narrowed his eyes slightly. “And who are you?”

“Draco Malfoy. _Sir._ ” His eyes flicked between them, no doubt recalling Credence’s use of his first name. “I thought Auto-Animagi were a myth.”

“They’re exceedingly rare, but they do exist. Although of course, Credence may not be an Auto-Animagus  . After all, he has superficially forgotten his magic; it is likely that he had been an Animagus previously but has forgotten how to transform, although his inner subconsciousness still remembers.”

“Wouldn’t you have known if he was an Animagus before?”

Newt chewed on his lip, raising his right hand for Pickett to hop onto before transferring him into one of his inner pockets. In the bright sunlight streaming through the windows, his hair glinted with crimson and amber highlights, his freckles standing stark on milk-white skin. “Well... I suppose he would have told me, yes.”

“And you have an acacia wand.” Draco smirked at him. “Looks like you were powerful, before your memories were erased. Makes me wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe someone planted that creature in your path.” A pause. “Maybe it was Potter.”

To his credit, Credence reacted to this with only a slight twitch. For someone who had only been told untruths about Credence, Draco displayed an uncanny intuition. With a sick swooping feeling in his stomach, he recalled what Hermione Granger – for he had asked Draco who she was as soon as they were safely in the common room – had said to him yesterday as they left the Great Hall.

“Why would it be Potter?” said Credence, feigning a little laugh.

“Don’t Dark Wizards always want to eliminate those more powerful than themselves?”

Credence shrugged nervously. “Well, I hope it wasn’t him, and I hope he continues to keep away. I just want to learn spells and take care of creatures, not contend with a Dark Lord.” This wasn’t exactly a lie.

“I suppose you’re right. If it had been intentional, they’d have wanted to kill you rather than just disable you.” Draco went back to idly examining the rows of jars on the shelves. 

“Draco, can I have a quick word with Professor Scamander alone, please?”

“Of course,” he drawled, shooting Credence a knowing look before ascending the ladder. Newt cast a Muffliato for good measure, and Credence wondered exactly why Draco had looked at him like that. What did he think he knew?

“Newt,” he said urgently. “Someone knows who I am. Hermione Granger.”

Newt sighed heavily. “Yes, well it _would_ be her, wouldn’t it.”

“Is she a threat? She was Potter’s best friend, her and that Weasel – ”

“Weasley. And...” Newt frowned thoughtfully, running a finger along the edge of his desk. “I don’t know. I don’t _think_ so. Her and Weasley seemed genuinely distraught when they found out about Potter’s defection, but of course it could all be a front... Tread carefully, but it would be useful to get to know them, to try and figure out what their deal is.”

Credence sighed, flopping down in a rickety wooden chair that creaked rather alarmingly. “This is all much more complicated than I thought it would be.”

“What, were you expecting bringing down a Dark Lord to be easy?”

Credence glared. “Well, _no,_ but I wasn’t expecting anyone to know who I am. You said nobody but you and President Picquery knew!”

“That’s what I thought!” cried Newt, wringing his hands. “I don’t understand. I suppose, one of the Aurors must have remembered, and wrote something... although it’s not common knowledge, and I doubt many people would even care about an Obscurial that existed sixty years ago, regardless of how powerful you were. But from what I’ve heard of Granger, that girl’s head is like a sponge, so anything she’d read about you would have stuck.”

“She looked suspicious,” sighed Credence. “She must have thought I returned for a reason.”

“Well, you kind of did.”

“ _Yes,_ but... she might think I have, uh, nefarious intentions. I mean, I’m an Obscurial. We aren’t exactly cuddly creatures.” Credence swallowed. He was all too aware of that darkness lurking within him. Before, he had seemed like a barely-restrained wild animal, liable to snap free at any provocation. After his rebirth, it seemed quieter and more muffled, but it was definitely _there._ Newt seemed to think that it would remain impotent, but Credence wasn’t sure. If he’d gained power enough to be reborn, who was to say he wouldn’t continue to gain power until the Obscurus regained its former hold? There was no precedent for something like this, and even Newt could only make speculations on what would become of him.

“You’re going to have to convince her you’re harmless,” said Newt gently, “and for her to not mention it to anybody else.”

“You say that as though you think it will be such an easy task.”

~

A tiny golden dragon was curled up in Draco Malfoy’s lap, contentedly puffing tiny smoke tendrils out of its nostrils. He was running a hand down its back, gently petting its iridescent half-formed scales. As Credence, he pulled out a scrap of meat from a bucket next to him and held it up. The dragon snapped at it, mercifully managing to avoid his fingers. The dragon swallowed and opened its mouth for more.

“Greedy little bastard, aren’t you,” murmured Draco, obliging.

“What are you doing?” hissed Newt’s voice from below him, and Credence hastily climbed the final rungs of the ladder and hopped out of the suitcase. Both Draco and the dragon looked up with almost identical expressions of surprise.

A soft gasp behind him announced Newt’s presence. “What breed is that?” he said, hurrying forward. “A hybrid?”

“Yeah,” said Draco, stroking the back of its neck soothingly as it eyed Newt nervously. “Chinese Fireball and Antipodean Opaleye. His name is Bobby.”

“He’s beautiful,” cooed Newt, crouching down so he was eye-level with him. “Hello, Bobby.” The dragon continued to eye him suspiciously.

“He don’t like new people,” said Hagrid, entering the room with a crashing noise, “but he likes Malfoy ‘ere. Took to him like a fish to water. Never seen him like that wi’ anyone else.”

Draco shifted, embarrassed, but before he could say anything Credence abruptly turned into a cat.

Bobby hissed, wings spreading warningly. Both Draco and Newt yelped “No!” in tandem as it leapt at Credence.

Newt grabbed him, snatching Credence to his chest as Draco gingerly shook the bucket of meat at the dragon. “Look, Bobby,” said Draco cajolingly. “Mutton! Mutton is far better than cat meat, you know...”

Bobby completely ignored him, attentions completely captivated by the new, interesting fuzzy prey that had so conveniently manifested in front of him. Newt quickly pulled his wand from his pocket and performed the Animagus reversal spell, ending up with a lap full of Credence. The dragon abruptly lost interest, and ambled back to Draco.

Credence’s limbs were clinging to Newt’s like a drowning man to a lifebuoy. “N-Newt,” he whimpered, burying his head in the crook of Newt’s neck. “It was going _to eat me!_ ”

“Newt?” repeated Draco, sharply. “ _Newt Scamander?”_

_Fuck._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> secret animal lover!draco is my ENTIRE AESTHETIC ok. 
> 
> and so is accidental animagus!credence tbh


	5. FOUR - of parselmouths and meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I MISSED A WEEK, life has been kicking my arse recently!! hopefully i shall be on time next week ;3

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious, though?”

“Draco, you appear to think _everything_ is suspicious,” sighed Credence.

Draco’s expression darkened. “I have reason to, believe me.”

“Not with Newt,” said Credence firmly. “He’s the most trustworthy person I know.”

Draco hadn’t been convinced with Newt’s explanation that he had the appearance of a thirty-year old due to a venom from a strange beast he encountered in Libya sixty years ago, which froze his external age. Draco thought that if such a venom existed, somebody would have discovered it by now – wasn’t the illusion of eternal youth one of the most sought-for things? – and besides, Newt refused to tell them what the beast was called.

“He didn’t tell us because it’s a _secret.”_ Credence rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just trust him?”

Draco mutely turned a page of _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ eyes trained on the book. He was one of the only students who’d actually kept his copy after Hagrid had assigned it back in third year. They were so hard to find now, once Flourish and Blotts realised how much of a nightmare it was to stock them, and it had become one of his favourite possessions.

Eventually, he said, “I’ve never been able to trust many people. Out of the few I have, most betrayed me.” _The Monster Book of Monsters_ began to growl very quietly, and Draco hastily flipped it over and gave it a quelling stroke down the spine.

“Yes,” said Credence quietly. “I know the feeling.” He glanced over at Draco’s book, noticing with an unpleasant jolt that he was on the page for Obscuri. As he watched, Draco turned the page again, seemingly uninterested, and he relaxed minutely.

Draco’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “I think I might trust you, though. Perhaps.”

Credence blinked. “M-me? Why?”

Draco finally looked up, a small smirk on his face. “You just look so innocent. I mean, you thought all wizards can turn into cats.”

Credence blushed. “It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, under the circumstances!” Draco’s smirk merely grew wider.

Credence glanced around the common room nervously, taking in the sight of a few students doing their homework – or at least, trying to – as he and Draco were. Although he had cast a Muffliato charm, which seemed to be his most-used spell lately, he couldn’t help but be anxious about his surroundings.

“Draco,” he said carefully, unsure of how to phrase his question. He and Newt hadn’t decided if they should tell Draco everything, or at least, some of it. “Are you... friends with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley?”

Draco let out a snort. “They hate my guts. Justifiably, I dare say.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“I was an arsehole when I was younger.”

“Only when you were younger?” This was met with a light slap on the arm, and Credence laughed.

“Why do you want to know, anyway? Do you fancy her?”

“No, of course I don’t!” said Credence indignantly.

Draco gave him a sly look. “So it’s Ron who you fancy?”

“ _No!”_

“No? I thought redheads were your type?”

“W-what are you even talking about, Malfoy?” Credence didn’t think his face had ever been so red in his entire life.

“‘Can I talk to Professor Scamander alone, Draco?’” he mimicked, and Credence thought his eyebrows would disappear into his hairline and possibly be lost forever. “‘Oh, _help me Newt,_ it was going to _eat me,_ save me, my love -”

 “Fuck you!” spluttered Credence, the curse word bursting out of him for the first time out of pure shock and embarrassment. “You – I – I _don’t_ fancy Professor Scamander!”

“ _Real-_ ly?”

“No, I do _not_! What a horrible accusation!”

“What’s so horrible about it?” Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because he’s a man?”

Once upon a time, that would have been a source of contention for Credence, but he had come to terms with his attractions with the encouragement of one who had called himself Percival Graves. “ _No,_ but he’s... a teacher!” In reality, Credence wasn’t entirely sure why he was so affronted at Draco’s suggestion.

Maybe because it was true.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” muttered Credence, face still crimson. “You’re derailing the conversation. I need to talk about Granger and Weasley. It’s about Potter.”

Draco abruptly sobered up, carefully closing _The Monster Book of Monsters._ Credence avoided looking at him, twirling his quill between his fingers. As he’d forgotten he’d inked it only a few words ago, a drop of ink ended up landing on his face, but he didn’t appear to notice. He knew he was going to have to trust someone from the student body, and Draco was the best possible option at the moment. He certainly didn’t want to march up to someone like Gregory Goyle or Milicent Bulstrode. “Do you think they could be working together?”

Draco’s thin lips pursed, lending them a moment of plumpness. Credence carefully fixed his eyes somewhere else. “Well, they were best friends,” he said slowly, “and Potter isn’t anti-Muggleborns, only anti-Muggles, so it’s _possible_ Granger would be working with them, although I doubt she’d turn on her own family.” Draco touched the plume of his own quill to his lips. “And the Weasley family are notoriously fond of Muggles... but then, nobody was expecting Potter to turn either...” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you so concerned, anyway?”

Credence exhaled slowly. “Granger knows something about me. I’m worried it will get around to the wrong people.”

Draco raised a single silver-blond eyebrow. “What?”

Credence finally placed his quill down, frowning momentarily at the ink on his hands before making sure the Muffliato charm was in place. “I’m an Obscurial.” That should suffice; no need to make everything any more complicated than it already was.

Draco had just picked up _The Monster Book of Monsters_ again, and abruptly dropped it. The book snapped at him indignantly, and he quickly ran a finger down its spine. “An _Obscurial?_ But – how - ”

“I fought it until last year,” said Credence, face gloomy, “and that’s why I haven’t been to Ilvermorny, or Hogwarts, or learnt any spells. Newt found me. He... he didn’t _cure_ me, but the Obscurial is contained. I’m not a threat anymore.” A sudden, dark smile spread across his face. “Unless I choose to be.”

Draco’s lips parted slightly, eyes fixed on his. “Holy shit,” he managed to breath out. “Holy _shit._ And Granger knows? How? Wait,” he said, rolling his eyes, “no need to answer that. But... fuck, if they _are_ working for Potter, then that could be... very bad.”

“Understatement of the century,” muttered Credence, and Draco smirked.

“But I have no idea how we’re going to get close to them to find out,” Draco continued, “or how we’re ever going to be able to work with them if it turns out they’re against him too. They hate me, and if you’re friends with them they’re going to have to be friends with _me,_ and they don’t look entirely favourably upon Slytherins in general...”

“Who said anything about working with them?”

Draco gave him a look. “So you, Mister Uber-Powerful Adult Obscurial, would be content to let Potter take over Britain? I don’t think so.”

He was, of course, right. But Credence wasn’t used to people getting the measure of him, or understanding him even an inkling, and it unsettled him. “And.... _we?”_

“We’re friends. I’m not going to let you go haring off to defeat a Dark Lord by yourself. Besides,” he added, eyes flashing, “you’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m going to pass up an opportunity to fight _Harry Potter.”_

~

“Newt?”

At the sound of Hagrid’s voice, Newt stood up in alarm and promptly hit his head on the bottom of his workbench, underneath which he had been rummaging for a Flobberworm that had slipped out of its bucket. Wincing, he straightened up.

“Ah, don’t look so surprised,” scoffed Hagrid. “I knew yer at Hogwarts, remember? Yer look _exactly_ the same. No relative looks _tha’_ similar.”  

Newt smiled sheepishly. “Yes, well.”

“But yer came to Hogwarts last year fer a talk, and yer looked old then.” Hagrid’s massive, bushy eyebrows came together in consternation. “So, what’s the truth – do yer really look young, or old?”

“Young,” confessed Newt, “and I drink an Ageing Potion whenever I have to make any appearances as myself. I’m old enough that most people don’t recognise my young self, which is lucky...”

“Hm.” Hagrid seemed to ruminate on this for a minute, and then he grinned. “Well, I don’t care about yer reasons; the only thing I care about is that yer back! _You,_ Newt Scamander! Hogwarts couldn’a have any Care of Magical Creatures professor better.” Newt couldn’t help but flush at this, reddened face clashing with his unkempt auburn hair. “But anyway, we’re gettin’ distracted. I came here ter talk t’yer about the Runespoor. They’re fightin’ again.”

“Oh no, _really?_ ” sighed Newt. “I had a word with them just the other day. Alright, I’ll come up. Thank you, Hagrid.”

Draco and Credence came in only a few moments after Newt had began trying to entreaty with the Runespoor. Draco had insisted he wanted to go because there was a good chance that Hermione and Ron would turn, but Credence thought it had more to do with the dragon. He had extra lessons with Professor McGonagall to control his Animagus transformations, but he’d only had one lesson so far and he wasn’t entirely certain he could prevent himself from becoming appetising dragon-fodder again.

Newt’s stern gaze was flicking between the centre and left heads, while the right looked rather smug. “Look – no, you simply can’t do that. Your kind give a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘cutting off your own nose to spite your face’ – _no!_ You do realise if you kill _that_ head, then _you two_ will die as well? Is that what you want?” The Runespoor heads took on a penitent stance. _“_ Exactly. Now. Have we decided to get along?” The left and centre heads nodded. Newt gave the right head an expectant look. “ _And_ you.” Irritated, the head acquiesced.

Credence and Draco were watching with open mouths.

“Merlin’s Beard,” breathed Draco. “You’re a Parselmouth.” He sat opposite Newt, regarding the Runespoor thoughtfully. “You were a Slytherin?”

“Hufflepuff, actually,” said Newt. “The whole myth that only Salazar Slytherin’s descendants can speak Parseltongue is just that – a myth. Although snakes did seem more inclined to _obey_ Salazar, which is probably how the whole legend started.”

Suddenly, there came a curiously harsh chirping noise, like a cross between a chick and a dinosaur, and Bobby the dragon came hurtling out from the adjacent room. Draco’s face lit up as Bobby settled on his shoulder, snout nuzzling into his neck.

“That dragon really loves you,” smiled Credence.

“Everyone loves me.” Draco lifted an arm, and Bobby hopped into it. “Ah...” Draco frowned. “What’s this?” He noticed a scale that was more flaky than the others, with a greenish-tinge. “Newt? I think there’s something...”

Newt immediately came around to squint and where Draco was pointing. “Merlin,” he said. “Scale rot. Not terribly dangerous, but... can you and Credence find Hagrid? He’s keeping all the dragon-related medicine... I think he’s gone out to the garden...” Credence and Draco leapt to obey, leaving a rather forlorn-looking Bobby with Newt, who soothing spoke to him in Parseltongue to calm him down. Although dragons could not speak Parseltongue, they were more at ease with the language than any human dialect.

When they returned with a couple of vials of the mixture, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were sitting in the front room.

“Malfoy’s going to see the dragon!” yelped Ron in horror, only to frown in bewilderment when Bobby immediately flew to him.

Draco scratched Bobby behind the ear. “Hello, sweetheart. I have something for you. Credence...?” Credence took the vial from him, and poured it onto a cloth. “Now,” said Draco soothingly, “This may sting a little, but it’s alright...”

“What the fuck,” said Ron. “What the entire - ”

“Oh, hello Weasley. And Granger.” Draco’s first instinct was to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but he remembered that he and Credence were supposed to be making friends with them. “Hope you’re doing well.”

“He’s been Polyjuiced,” hissed Hermione. “Who _is_ that? Is it Hagrid?”

“It’s me,” snapped Draco. Bobby inadvertently reflected his ire as Credence dabbed hesitantly at the affected scale, a couple of sparks flying from Bobby’s nose. “Now, none of that,” admonished Draco. “This is for your own good.”

Hagrid came crashing into the room, clothes stained with mud. “Hullo Ron and Hermione! It’s nice ter see you two. Lots of visitors tonight!”

“We noticed,” said Hermione thinly. “Hagrid, _what_ is Malfoy doing in your cabin?”

“Well, Credence is Professor Scamander’s assistant, and Draco is his friend. And Bobby seems to like him.” He gestured vaguely to where Draco was still cradling the dragon in his arms like a newborn child, consoling him while Credence continued to administer the medicine.

“Draco?” said Hermione faintly. “It’s Draco now, is it?”

“You aren’t being particularly civil,” murmured Draco, not looking up.

“Oh, that’s _rich,_ coming from _you -_ ”

The words _Well, that’s because I_ am _rich, as you may have noticed_ hovered on Draco’s tongue, but he bit them back.

“Please, let’s not fight,” said Credence, finishing with Bobby. The dragon immediately leapt back onto Draco’s shoulder and peered at Hermione and Ron with some suspicion, perhaps sensing Draco’s dislike.

“We’ve been meaning to ask you a few questions, actually, so it’s glad you’re here,” said Newt, causing Draco and Credence to stare at him in alarm. “Such as, how do you know who Credence really is?”

“Lysander!” hissed Draco. He turned to Credence, mouthing, “I thought we were going for subtlety?”

“I’m not entirely sure he knows what the word means,” replied Credence, resigned.

Hermione swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they meet!! what does hermione have to say for herself? and will ron ever find out what the fuck is happening?


	6. FIVE - black looks and revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know i said i'd try to make this on time but i don't even know why i said that bc i've been moving house and beginning uni and everything's been mad crazy!!!! but it isn't as late as last time, so.... progress? XD

“I don’t mean anything nefarious,” said Hermione quickly, holding up her hands in surrender.

“Oh, because _that_ doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” sneered Draco.

“Yup, that sounds more like the Malfoy we know and despise,” muttered Ron under his breath. A couple of the Runespoor’s heads hissed at him, and he stepped backwards in alarm.

“It’s just, an Obscurial reappearing after decades looking exactly the same age he was when he supposedly died, and being sorted into Slytherin, did strike me as rather suspicious. I wanted him to know that someone knew who he was so he wouldn’t try any funny business.”

“Oh yes, because everyone who’s in Slytherin is evil,” snapped Draco.

“Name one Dark Wizard who wasn’t in Slytherin,” said Ron, glowering.

“Peter Pettigrew,” said Hermione, almost apologetically.

“And Harry Potter,” Draco interjected with a nasty little smile. Ron’s ears went red, and he turned away, scowling, but he knew Draco’s point was irrefutable. Ron watched nervously as the Runespoor stretched, but the creature merely slid down from the table to coil around Draco’s legs. “Don’t do that,” Draco said. “I’ll stand up and fall over, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

The heads gave him an identical look, and you didn’t have to be a Parselmouth to know that expression said _Yes, that was the point._

“Trinity,” said Newt sternly in Parseltongue, causing Hermione and Ron to yelp in alarm. “Now is not the time. Do you want to go back in the case?”

The left head glared at him, and Trinity slid sulkily away. The Slytherins and Gryffindors continued to eye each other with deep suspicion across the room.

“So,” said Hermione, eyes narrowing at Credence. “What happened with you, Credence Barebone? How come you’re still alive?”

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,” whispered Credence as Trinity coiled around his arm, “and with strange aeons - ”

“Even death may die,” finished Hermione. “H.P. Lovecraft. Are you saying you’re immortal?”

“No. I just have the ability to hibernate for a while. Like a tardigrade.*”

“But, eternally? ‘Even death may die’?”

“It was a hyperbole.” The side of Credence’s mouth twitched upwards. “Being as clever as you are, I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

“Hanging out with Malfoy has rubbed off on you, I see.”

“Oh, no, I’ve always been like this.” _Except now I don’t have Mary Lou to hit me if I say something sarcastic._ He stroked one of the Runespoor’s heads, causing the other two to complain. He rolled his eyes and scratched the scales further down instead.

“No one can be master of death, or immortal, or any such bullshit,” said Newt. “Not even the so-called amortals, like ghosts and vampires. Yet people continue to try. I suppose Nicolas Flamel and his wife got moderately close, can’t complain about _their_ lifespan... But anyway, I digress. We need to get down to business to defeat - ”

“The Huns,” Hermione couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, but unfortunately nobody in the room caught the reference.

“Harry Potter,” finished Newt, blinking at Hermione with incomprehension. “And since we’re all on the same side - ”

This provoked a minor uproar, with Draco insisting that Ron and Hermione could quite easily be working with Harry, and Ron yelling back that if anyone should be accused of working for the Dark Side, it should be Malfoy himself.

Newt watched them impassively for a few moments, before going to the corner of the room and tapping thin air, muttering what Credence recognised as an Invisibility Spell-Reversal. Ron and Draco abruptly fell silent as Fawkes the phoenix materialised in mid-air.

“If you’ve been paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures lessons, you’ll know that phoenixes are incredibly loyal,” said Newt, reaching out a hand to stroke the feathers on Fawkes’ back. “Usually they follow their owner towards death instead of switching to another owner, but Fawkes here is desperate to find vengeance for his late master, and has agreed to work with me to ferret out Harry Potter and his supporters. He’s deemed you all worthy.”

“No offence,” said Ron, “but how would a bird know if Malfoy is working with Harry or not?” The phoenix turned a beady eye on him, and Ron shrank backwards a little.

“They know,” said Newt simply. “Very intelligent, phoenixes.”

Draco and Ron continued to eye each other suspiciously across the table, and Hermione sighed. “Ron, I think he’s right. You know how clever phoenixes are – remember in second year, in the Chamber of Secrets, when Harry - ” There suddenly sounded like something was stuck in Hermione’s throat, and she swallowed.

“Yeah,” said Ron unwillingly, “I guess.”

“So, are you all going to act like adults and agree to work together?” asked Newt, looking between the two groups. Hermione and Credence nodded, and Draco and Ron glared at each other before nodding very slightly.

“Good,” said Newt briskly. “I’m working on a plan at the moment, so I’ll let you two know when it’s all formulated.” He smiled radiantly at them, and Ron couldn’t help himself from ceasing to scowl.

~

Once Ron and Hermione had left, the three of them went back to the suitcase to visit the Bowtruckle enclosure. Pickett, even in his old age, was still refusing to reconcile with his peers and remained stubbornly inside Newt’s coat whenever they visited.

It was only a few minutes or so later that Hagrid’s voice began emanating through the enclosure, almost as though it was the voice of God. “Newt? Yeh’ve got a visitor! Do yeh went to come up, or should I show him down?”

“Down, please,” said Newt amicably, although a sudden wave of panic had swept over him. There was only one person the visitor could be, and Newt hadn’t been expecting him to arrive so soon – but then again, he could hardly expect the man to wait even a second longer once he found out what was happening.

Draco looked up, a Bowtruckle dangling from his index finger. “Who is it?”

“An old friend,” said Newt vaguely, eyes flicking nervously to Credence. “Very old friend.” Credence looked up with mild interest, before going back to feeding the Bowtruckles.

The door leading to the entrance room swung open, and there was a crashing noise followed by indignant Bowtruckle chattering as Credence dropped the tub of food, scattering woodlice over the floor. He took an involuntary step forward and then backed away again, wonder and reticence  warring on his face, as though he was scared to believe what his eyes were telling him in case it was, once again, a trick.

“My dear boy,” said Percival Graves in a hoarse voice, “welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the shortness, but i felt like this was a natural sort of cliffhanger to end on???? hopefully this Revelation makes up for the brevity of the chapter, and there's some really exciting shit (and more revelations) gonna happen in the next chapters;D i can't promise that i'll be able to post chap 6 in a week's time (that is, 28th Sept) but it shouldn't be longer than a fortnight. thanks for bearing with me and my hectic life xo


	7. SIX - welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one oneshot, and a chapter update in one day?? seb, you're on fire!!
> 
> apologies for the (extremely!) late update! life's been mad hectic recently, you wouldn't believe. i actually have three essays to write, and i don't know why i chose right now to go on a writing spree, but i guess my brain has never made that much sense. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy! next update shouldn't be as long, but it won't be as short as a week; i won't make it more than a month, though. :) thanks for persevering w/ me

Before any of them had time to react, Credence whipped out his wand and pointed it at Graves, tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “ _Verumorphus!”_

A jet of electric-blue light shot from the tip of his wand, hitting Graves squarely in the chest. He staggered back slightly, shocked, but didn’t seem to suffer any other effects. Credence remained frozen for a few moments, and then ran to him, flinging his arms around his waist. “Percival,” he sobbed, “Percival, it’s you... it’s _you...”_

“Yes, sweetheart,” smiled Graves, running a soothing hand up and down Credence’s back, “it’s me.”

Unimpressed, Draco leaned against a tree, quirking an eyebrow at Newt. “Let me guess. He was bitten by this mysterious Libyan creature whose venom prevents aging as well?”

Credence unfurled his arms and turned to face them, back pressed against Graves and the other man’s arms still curled around his waist. He blinked wide-eyed at Newt. “N-Newt? Did you lie about the creature?”

“I... ah... maybe. Yes,” he added hastily at a nasty look from Draco. “Of course the venom doesn’t exist, it would have been discovered years ago... No, it’s a... well, Graves and I made a... er...” He gestured vaguely, noting the blankness of Credence’s expression and a dawning look of comprehension on Draco’s.

“A Horcrux,” he breathed. “You made a Horcrux.”

“...Yes.” Newt fiddled with a coat button. “Yes, we might have done that.”

Graves groaned, and Newt glared at him. This didn’t have much of an effect, as it was similar to being glared at by a particularly fluffy rabbit. “Well, we had to tell them!”

Draco leaned forward, eyes sparkling with morbid intrigue. “When?”

“When I was twenty-seven, and Graves was thirty-nine. Hence the, uh, appearances.”

“But don’t Horcruxes make you look all... Voldemort-ish?”

“No, they fix you at the age you made it. Voldemort only looked like that because he made six Horcruxes, which is wholly inadvisable. Honestly, it astounds me that he was considered one of the most powerful wizards of the age, because that just displays a _complete_ lack of common sense. I’m over twenty years his age, you know. _Dumbledore_ was thirty years older. He could have just stuck with the one, or the none, and - ”

“Newt,” said Credence, “what’s a Horcrux?”

“Who did you kill?” added Draco eagerly, to a startled look from Credence.

Newt quickly explained the nature of a Horcrux, mentioning that you had to kill someone in order to make one, but not going into any further detail than that. In studying both Horcruxes and Obscuri, Newt couldn’t help but notice the similarities between them – the ability for a soul to stay in suspended animation to be reincarnated again – but hadn’t found anything more concrete than that. One thing was for certain: they were both born out of the same cloth of Dark magic, of that strange abyss that no witch or wizard has managed to successfully unravel the secrets of.

“And as for your question, Draco,” finished Newt, “it was an illegal dragon breeder. Kept the creatures in the most dismal of conditions, I had never seen such squalor or neglect. If it had to be someone, it was him.”

“And Graves?” whispered Credence. “Who did _you_ kill?”

Graves shifted uncomfortably, and removed his arms from Credence’s waist to spin him around and look him in the eye. “Mary Lou Barebone.”

Credence abruptly transformed into a bewildered-looking cat, before hastily changing back. “Sorry, not entirely in control of it yet... usually it’s surprise that sets it off...”

“You’re an _Auto-Animagus?”_ Graves asked, astonished.

“Yes. And I thought, well, that _I_ killed Mary Lou?”

“You nearly did. I finished her off.” Graves’ apprehensive look vanished as Credence beamed at him.

“What relation was she to you?” asked Draco. “And what the fuck did she do to make you both hate her so much?”

“My mother,” said Credence. “Well, adoptive. And she...” Credence trailed off, and Graves glared at Draco. As his glare was far more effective than Newt’s, Draco quickly subsided into silence.

Suddenly, Credence whirled to face Newt again, stepping forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, eyes sparking with fury. “ _Why didn’t you tell me Percival was alive?”_

“I… I wanted you to see him,” said Newt. “Just so you could be sure… sure that it was true.”

~

Draco had left shortly after that, feeling like an intruder as Credence bombarded Graves with questions about where he had been, and he sat in front of his mirror in the dorm with a careful look of concentration on his face. It was a Hogsmeade day, so he didn’t expect anyone to enter the deserted dorm. Briefly, he wondered why Ron and Hermione hadn’t gone; then he realised it must be because the trips reminded them too much of Harry.

It was a surprise to most people that Hogsmeade trips hadn’t been suspended in the wake of the new Dark Lord, but since Potter hadn’t made any sort of move towards Hogwarts yet, it seemed that Professor McGonagall was trying to keep everything as normal-seeming as possible, at least for now.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Draco screwed up his face, and watched as his features changed one-by-one, melting into their new form with a swiftness borne of practice. Draco reached into his trunk, and extracted a pair of circular glasses. Once he put them on, the illusion was complete: he was indistinguishable from Harry Potter. Even the lines of his scar were exact, not that anybody would be able to pick up on a slight discrepancy – although he wouldn’t put it past Hermione Granger.

He fumbled with an Invisibility Cloak he had bought from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes the other day. It couldn’t compare to Potter’s own cloak, and the enchantment would wear off after a few days, but it was better than nothing.

It had taken him an irritatingly long amount of time to get into the Gryffindor Common Room. He had been waiting there over half an hour when a gaggle of second years finally arrived and screamed out the password in the Fat Lady’s face, and Draco slipped in after them, accidentally brushing the last one’s robe. The startled girl looked around for a moment, but seemed to have thought it was her imagination, and she and her friends trooped up to their dorm.

And – _thank Merlin! –_ Ron and Hermione were sat in the common room, alone.

Draco dramatically revealed himself, and Hermione let out the tiniest beginning of a scream before clapping her hand over her mouth.

“Harry?” demanded Ron, stepping forward with an incredulous look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“And more importantly, what do you think you’re playing at? Please tell me this whole Dark Lord thing has been a… an impostor, or something…” Hermione’s eyes fell suddenly on the Invisibility Cloak, made of a rough material that couldn’t compare to the grace and fluidity of Potter’s. “You lost your Cloak?”

Sighing, Draco put his glasses in his pocket, and changed back to his normal features. This time Hermione couldn’t suppress a startled gasp, and Ron shouted, “What the _fuck?”_

“Sorry,” muttered Draco, bundling up his cloak, “but I needed to see what your reaction was, you see. I needed to make sure you weren’t still in league with Potter.”

Ron looked like he was about to punch him. Hermione quickly said, “You know, that was actually quite clever. But… you’re a Metamorphagus?”

“Yes. It runs in the family, actually; Tonks got it from her mother’s side. Well, I’m glad you two aren’t evil, lovely chatting with you, I’d better be off.”

“Wait!” called Ron. “Going so soon?”

“I have a bit of a migraine,” Draco lied. “Transforming does that sometimes. Goodbye.”

He didn’t run all the way back to the Slytherin common room, but he walked so fast that Snape did a double-take, and some first-years looked positively alarmed. As soon as he’d breathlessly uttered the Slytherin password, Draco flopped down into one of the armchairs and - heedless of the small group of first-years gathered at the glass wall and attempting to communicate with the merfolk - sobbed into his hands. 


	8. SEVEN - three's company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know i apologise for being late every single time BUT!! the next chapter is already written and i'm on summer break!! so next chapter will DEFO not be late. and thank god for that, because there's one hell of a cliffhanger at the end of this one. 
> 
> hope you enjoy, and thanks as always for being patient with my busy, slow arse <333

Professor Snape had come down with a mysterious illness that had caused Credence’s Potions class to be cancelled. Privately, he blamed Draco; they were to be tested on their Draught of Living Death today, which he’d been complaining about for the past week. Credence wouldn’t put it past him to have slipped Snape something.

He hurried across the grounds to Hagrid’s cabin, the autumn air nipping at his face with a ferocity that signalled oncoming winter. He shivered, pulling his green and silver scarf tighter around his throat, and knocked on the door. He could hear noises from within, the indistinct murmuring of voices. When there was no reply, he knocked again, more insistently, and then _Alohomora-_ ed the door open.

“Hello?” he said. The swell of voices – two, it sounded like, interspersed with strange, breathy noises – was louder now, and he hesitantly shut the door. “Hel- _lo?”_ He followed the noise to Newt’s room, opened the door, and stopped. His chilled face suddenly warmed up all at once with a rush of blood to his cheeks as Newt and Graves let out a yelp of surprise at the same time, Newt grabbing for the duvet to cover them and nearly falling off the side.

“S-sorry,” gasped Credence, gaze darting to the wall, the windows, anything but the sight of the two most beautiful men he’d ever known in the nude with their cocks deliciously swollen, a shining bead of precum on Newt’s head calling to him like an anglerfish’s lure. “I should – I should go, I - ”

“Are you sure?” Graves’ voice was like nothing Credence had ever heard before, lust and mischief entwined in a dangerous growl that made heat lick up Credence’s spine. “Why don’t you join us, my dear boy?”

Newt gasped, partly out of surprise and partly out of desire. “Oh, Percival, you _dirty_ old man.”

“Are you protesting?” said Graves slyly.

“Of course not,” replied Newt, voice faint. “Not at all. What say you, Credence?”

Credence nearly tripped over the hem of his robe in his haste to advance, his scarf curling to the floor. But after he was halfway to the bed, he suddenly hesitated, cheeks flushing even deeper. “I… I’ve never done this… before…”

“It’s alright,” said Graves cajolingly. “Just come here, my boy. We’ll teach you.” He Vanished Credence’s clothes, and the sudden chill on his skin made him shiver slightly. But it wasn’t long before he was being gathered into Graves’ arms, surrounded by heat with Newt on his other side, and Graves was pulling him in for a deep kiss. Credence allowed himself to be led, lips mirroring Graves’ movements, and he gasped when Graves pulled away. Newt gently pulled him backwards onto the mattress, and crawled between his legs.

Credence’s impressive length was almost flat against his stomach, a hot iron rod wrapped in satin. Newt bent his head, lips hovering inches from his cockhead as though asking a question.

“Yes,” whimpered Credence, knowing what Newt was wordlessly asking. “Please.” When Newt’s lips engulfed him, the pleasure was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He gave a cry that bordered on a scream, hips involuntarily bucking upwards into Newt’s mouth. He stilled, but Newt didn’t seem to mind, but merely flicked his eyes upwards in a way that indicated amusement.

Credence’s hands laced through Newt’s beautiful auburn curls, and he made the mistake of looking over at Graves. He was watching them avidly, hand slowly jerking his cock, and the sight was enough to bring Credence to completion far earlier than he’d intended. He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, Newt’s lips had collided with Graves’, transferring Credence’s cum to his mouth, and he instantly felt that all the breath had been knocked from him.

He had never even dreamt of such lewdness; never even imagined that such debauchery existed.

Graves and Newt were frantic, not wanting to waste any second longer; their hands were around each other’s cocks, stroking and tugging with increasing urgency, before they were releasing over each other’s chests. Credence came hesitantly forward, and licked a stripe down Graves’ abdomen, collecting Newt’s essence.

Graves groaned. “You’re a fucking delight, Credence. My beautiful boy.”

“ _Our_ beautiful boy,” corrected Newt with a smile, and Credence nodded his agreement eagerly.

“Yours.”

~

A few hours later, they’d all worked out a plan. They would send an owl to Harry – owls always seemed to find their recipient, but were never amenable to tracking – asking him to meet someone in the Shrieking Shack.

They had decided that the safest person to meet Harry would be Credence. He had no emotional investment, unlike everybody else, and he could present himself as an Obscurial wanting to join him. No Dark Lord would be able to resist the lure of an Obscurial.

In the beginning, everything seemed to be going well.

If one considers “the beginning” to last the first two seconds after Harry had Apparated into the Shrieking Shack.

For before Credence could say a word, Draco was suddenly bursting from the shadows, Disillusionment Charm cast aside like an old cloak. He’d Expelliarmus’d Harry before anybody knew what was happening, and pushed his wand to where Harry’s throat met the bottom of his chin.

“You,” he growled. “ _You!_ How the _fuck_ could you do this to me?”

There was a flicker of confusion across Harry’s face, and that’s when Draco knew.

He had only heard the spell once – as far as he was aware, Credence had invented it himself, born from his knowledge of Latin – but Draco remembered it. He’d stowed it away in his brain like he did with all new spells.

“ _Verumorphus.”_

There was a flash of light, and a sharp _crack_ rent the air.

Still-Disillusioned Ron said, “ _You?”,_ too surprised at first to be angry, and Hermione gasped in shock, disembodied voice ringing through the room like a ghost’s.

Draco’s face contorted with fury. “You’d better tell me where the real Harry Potter is if you don’t want me to kill you where you stand,” he snarled.  

 

 


	9. EIGHT - birthright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's kinda short but it's also really early so that makes up for it, right? ;)

“There isn’t supposed to be a spell that can reverse the effects of the Polyjuice Potion…” He shook his head, as if to clear it, then looked up. “Put your wand down,” said Neville Longbottom calmly. “You aren’t going to kill me, and we both know it. I can’t tell you where he is if I’m dead.”

“As the great Dumbledore once said, there are worse things than death. _Crucio.”_

Neville let out an ear-splitting scream, falling to his knees and spasming on the floor. Draco watched impassively, and there was a slight crackle of magic as Ron and Hermione got rid of their own Disillusionment Charms and stepped forward. Hermione looked ready to kill, and Ron just looked confused.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Have you been working with Harry? Come here today in his place?”

“He was always the Dark Lord,” said Hermione. “Weren’t you? You’ve been Polyjuiced as him ever since you killed Voldemort. But why?”

Neville looked up. The pure hatred in his eyes almost made Draco step back slightly. He had never seen such a look on _anyone_ before, much less Neville Longbottom. 

He half-felt he was in a dream. Neville? _Neville? The Dark Lord?_

Neville hesitated, then appeared to think there was no point in lying, and his words spilled out in a torrent of venom. “It was supposed to be me. The prophecy was supposed to be about _me!_ It was only because Snape could only ever think of Lily that he thought it was about Harry; it should have been _me. I_ am the Chosen One. But instead - ” His mouth twisted. “Instead my family thought I was a Squib. I was nearly killed by my own uncle trying to get my magic out, for fuck’s sake. But it was here all along. It was their overzealous pushing that made my powers latent for so long; I was told I was crap all my life and it made me believe it, when the entire time _I. Was. The. Chosen. One.”_

“Why didn’t you just kill Voldemort as yourself, then? Why take Harry’s identity?” Although it was clear that Hermione was attempting to keep her voice neutral, she couldn’t keep the disgust out of her tone.

“He needed to discredit him,” said Draco suddenly. “Completely and utterly ruin Harry’s reputation, and then kill him. Only then could be truly supplant him. Isn’t that right?”

“You’re not as stupid as you look, are you Malfoy?” Neville let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Well, this really has been a nice chat, but…” His hand dipped in his pocket, fast as a whip. “I really must be going now.” The _crack_ of Disapparition echoed through the Shack, leaving the four of them staring dumbfounded at the space where he had been. Draco looked at the wand in his hand.

“Of course he had a back-up wand,” he muttered under his breath. “The fucking sod.”

“Mustn’t have been as good, though,” said Ron with evident relish, pointing at the floor. “He’s Splinched a finger.”

“I wish it had been his fucking head,” snarled Draco, and launched the wand at the wall.

“Oi!” yelped Ron. “Don’t damage it, we can use that to track him!”

Draco rounded on him. “ _How,_ Weasley? There isn’t a spell for that!”

“If anyone can find out how to do it, it’s Credence,” said Hermione slowly. “He invented _Verumorphus,_ after all.”

Credence looked more than a little bit alarmed as she looked at him expectantly. “I didn’t… that is, all I did was say ‘true form’ in Latin, it wasn’t… anything special…”

“Nowadays, it’s extremely rare for new spells to be invented, and if it was as easy as saying random shit in Latin then people would be discovering them all the time. The Killing Curse isn’t _Morior,_ is it? There’s more to it than just Latin.”

“It wouldn’t be _Morior_ because that’s not the imperative. It would be _Morere,_ or _Morimini._ But then again, _Protego_ isn’t the imperative, so - ”

“Look, I know Hermione might be interested in the etymology of spells, but now’s not the time or the place, alright Cre?” said Draco in exasperation.

He blushed. “Um, yes. Right. My point is I don’t know how to create spells. It just came out, okay? It was just a fluke!”

“It was one hell of a coincidence,” pointed out Hermione. “You’re the greatest Obscurial to have ever lived. If any one of us can figure out how to track him, it’s going to be you.”

“Fine. But you three have to help as well. Especially you, Hermione. Aren’t you supposed to be the brightest witch of your age?”

“Yes, but I’ve never invented a spell before.” There was a definite note of jealousy in her voice.

“Are we all just going to ignore the fact that Draco just sprung out like that?” Ron suddenly put in. “What the hell was all that about? I thought you and Harry were mortal enemies?”

Astonishingly, a faint bloom of pink crossed Draco’s cheeks. “Not exactly. Not since fifth year.”

A flash of realisation lit Hermione’s face. “Oh. _Oh._ I was wondering why his fling with Ginny was so brief.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to the side. “Yes, well, I don’t think this is particularly relevant to our current situ – ”

“It bloody well is!” burst out Ron. “You mean to tell me you two have been _fucking_ since fifth year?”

“Nobody said anything about fucking,” said Draco primly.

Ron smirked. “Okay, but were you?”

“None of your fucking business, Weasley,” he sneered, and turned decisively away. “Come, Credence. We need to work out our next move.”


	10. NINE - the spellmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is mega shitty i had massive writer's block

Darkness can lurk in the most unlikely of places.

But Draco should have known Harry would never leave. Not like this, not without even a note.

Not without the benefit of the doubt that Draco would follow him to the ends of the earth, even to hell itself.

He should have seen it earlier.

He was a fucking disgrace.

Bobby immediately settled on Draco’s shoulder when he entered the cabin, instinctively sensing his distress. Draco smiled, reaching upwards to scratch the dragon’s head. Beautiful creatures, they were. He understood why Hagrid was so obsessed with them.

“Fucking hell,” said Percival Graves, who was sprawled in a chair with the demeanour of a king in his throne, Credence on his lap. “This really has thrown a gnome in the garden, hasn’t it?”

“Well, not… _exactly._ I mean, we still have a Dark Lord to defeat,” said Newt.

“Yes,” said Ron, more snappishly than he’d intended, “but we can’t kill Neville without finding out where Harry is.”

“But that’s easy. _Imperio_ him, make him drink some Veritaserum…”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Draco, unexpectedly, his tone clipped. “One of the perks of being an Occulmens, apart from the obvious, is that it’s very easy to learn how to become a Legilimens.”

There was a very pregnant pause.

“What if Neville is an Occulmens, though?” said Graves, who was threading his hand through Credence’s hair. Credence pushed his head closer to him, looking all the world like the cat of his Animagus form.

“He isn’t,” said Draco. “I tested his defences back at the Shrieking Shack.”

Credence was turning his wand over and over in his hands, staring at it through narrowed eyes. He placed it on the palm of his hand, took in a breath, and whispered, “ _Homo inuenio.”_ The wand immediately lit up with a faint blue glow and began to vibrate slightly, spinning in his palm before settling on a direction that Draco thought was perhaps west.

Newt jumped up from his chair, scooping Credence from Graves’ lap. “Well _done,_ my dear! You did it! Of course, it only shows us direction, not distance, so we’ll have to be watchful at all times - ”

“Constant vigilance,” murmured Hermione, with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Draco’s eyes flicked between Graves, Credence and Newt. “I see you’ve finally consummated your attraction to Scamander, Credence, and thank fuck for that. I was going to spontaneously combust from the sexual tension crackling in the air.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” muttered Credence, blushing hotly. He gently disentangled himself from Newt’s arms, laying his wand back on the flat of his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then said, “Well, I suppose we’d better get moving. We don’t have any time to lose.”

~

Credence’s spell directed them to a grotto by the coast, which was nearly a six mile walk. Draco had complained about it at first, before conceding that it could have been far worse. Ron had added about half the way there that they could have brooms, with Graves replying with an irritated “It’s a bit too late for that!” and Credence saying in a quavering voice, “But I’ve never ridden a broom before.”

The six of them all had their wands out as they approached the grotto, Graves and Newt leading the way. They all had Disillusionment Spells on, but they still had to take care; if Neville noticed a noise, it would draw attention to them and perhaps let him see through the illusion. Powerful wizards could do that, and whatever else one may say about Neville, he was definitely powerful.

Ron and Hermione’s faces looked even more troubled than the others, and Draco knew exactly why – because they had not entertained the idea, even for a moment, that it might not actually be Harry. Draco was feeling that exact same mixture of guilt and sorrow – one of the most terrible cocktails of emotion humankind was capable of – crushing him with every step he took, getting ever stronger as he approached the entrance of the cave.

He didn’t know what he dreaded the most – that he would find Harry within, or that he would not.

The others wanted to take Neville alive. Of course they did; they were all Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, except from Credence, who had stayed remarkably silent on the issue. They wanted to see if he could be reasoned with, or redeemed, and if he could not, then he would be sent to Azkaban.

But Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, and he was both unforgiving and practical.

Neville’s head turned as soon as they stepped into the mouth of the cave, Draco at the group’s head. Neville immediately disarmed everyone with an Expelliarmus, his face contorted in a maniacal grin.

“You thought you could fool _me_ with Disillusionment Charms?” demanded Neville.

By the side of the cave, a painfully thin Harry was curled up under a ragged blanket, deep in what was certainly a magically-induced sleep.

That sight was what made up Draco’s mind.

“Avada Ke-“ began Neville.

Draco shot him.

Neville automatically dropped his wand as his right hand clutched at the bullet wound in his chest, eyes bulging in pure astonishment.

“Muggle technology should never be underestimated,” said Draco simply, his voice devoid of all emotion. Neville’s knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, hand scrabbling on the floor for his wand. Before he could recover it, Draco pulled the trigger again, and this time the shot went straight through Neville’s throat.

Two things happened at once.

First, Neville fell backwards, and was still.

Second, Harry woke up.

He immediately bolted into a sitting position, blinking around in the dimness of the cave. “Wh-what’s going on?”

Ron, Hermione and Draco all shouted “Harry!” in unison and rushed towards him, but it was Draco who was the first to reach him, supporting his torso as he slumped forward, exhausted. “Careful, now,” he murmured. “You’re weak. Don’t overexert yourself.” As Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, Draco looked up at Ron and Hermione. “We’d better Apparate to St. Mungo’s. Who’s the best at Apparition? They can take Harry via Side-Along.”

“I’ll do it,” said Graves immediately, stepping forward.

“You shouldn’t have killed him,” said Hermione accusingly to Draco.

He snorted. “Oh, spare me your Gryffindor preaching. I guarantee that at least one of us would be dead if I hadn’t killed him first, and you know it.”

“It was a stroke of genius, that gun,” said Ron unexpectedly. “Even more surprising considering it came from you.”

“I got over my Muggle hatred a long time ago. I think they’re fantastic.” He twirled the pistol in his hands. “Especially their weapons.” He shot a sidelong glance at Hermione, and smirked. “Admit it, Granger, you’re only mad at me because you wish you’d thought of it first.”

Hermione only glared.

~

Ten hours later, Harry woke up.

Draco had refused to leave his bedside, and neither had Ron and Hermione. Credence had refused to leave Draco, and Newt and Graves had refused to leave Credence.

So it was that Harry awoke to see six faces staring at him, three of which were entirely unfamiliar, and Draco realised that Madam Pomfrey’s visitor restrictions weren’t quite as ludicrous as he’d previously thought, and wondered why on Earth St. Mungo’s were more relaxed than her.

“Who are you?” demanded Harry immediately, scrabbling for his glasses, which were lying on the bedside table. “Where am I?” He was staring at Graves with wide eyes; Graves was probably the worst person for his eyes to alight upon first, since he looked a thousand times more intimidating than Newt or Credence.

“It’s me,” said Draco, reaching for his hand. Harry’s head snapped towards him, and visible relief flowed through him, which was only compounded by noticing Ron and Hermione. “You’re in St. Mungo’s. Neville’s dead.”

“He was… he was Polyjuicing me, wasn’t he? He kept me asleep most of the time, but I think he said that… once…”

“Yes, he was. He was styling himself the new Dark Lord using your face.” Seeing the look of horror that crossed Harry’s face, Draco hastily added, “but don’t worry, he didn’t get the chance to do much damage, and everyone already knows the full story. We told the Daily Prophet; we wanted to clear your name immediately.”

Credence nudged Newt, and quietly said, “Looks like you didn’t really need me after all, then?”

Newt looked at him. “No, without you we’d never have found them. And besides – you were going to come back to your corporeal form within the next week. I thought you should have a familiar person with you. And since the new Dark Lord was on the rise, I thought that you could… well, help. And you did.”

“It’s true,” said Draco, turning to them. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Cree.”

Credence gave him a tremulous smile.

“I think everyone’s avoiding the elephant in the room,” said Ron, “and that is, Harry, why the entire _fuck_ didn’t you tell me and Hermione you were banging Draco fucking Malfoy?”

“Because I knew you’d act like this,” said Harry simply, and they both dissolved in fits of laughter.

Twelve hours after that, Harry was discharged from St. Mungo’s.

And from then on – all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c'est fini!! hope y'all liked it and that this chapter wasn't too diabolical!!
> 
> but anyway the gun thing was because one night i was lyin in bed and i just got real pissed off that not even a single fucking person went "let's shoot voldemort" so i did it. i followed my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://thymelord.tumblr.com/)


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